


Richie Tozier's Hair

by podcastalien



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A little angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I would die for every member of the losers club, M/M, Richie and Eddie are oblivious fools, Side Ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/podcastalien/pseuds/podcastalien
Summary: For as longs as he could remember, Richie's hair had been the bane of his existence. Only when Richie tries to change it, does Eddie realize that he couldn't disagree more.





	1. Richie

Richie's hair had been the subject of his dismay for as long as he could remember. There were a lot of things he didn't like about himself: his coke-bottle glasses, his buck teeth, his lanky body that always seemed to take up just too much space, but his hair most of all. 

When he was younger, it was thick and had the tendency to knot, but nothing his mother couldn't run a comb through before Stan's bar-mitzvah. It curled only a bit, just at the ends; Richie really should've taken his history with cruel foreshadowing into account. When he hit puberty, his hair seemed to have grown a mind, body, and soul of its own: it had gotten thicker, almost to a ridiculous degree and impossibly curly. It was the summer of 1991 when his hair first stared to morph into tight, dark ringlets that didn't so much frame his face, as it did stick to it in sweaty clumps. Maine’s humid air didn't help, neither did the rain, but he figured that this strange development would eventually leave with the heat, as many things did in Derry. It didn't. 

The fall brought its dry, dull air that certainly made Richie's hair more brittle and a little less puffy, but no less curly. Autumn also brought taunts of “do something that hair before you leave the house,” from his parents and “pube head,” from his most adoring classmates. He'd never missed being called a trashmouth so much (he did still get that one, but now the bullies would spilt it with jabs at his hair). 

He'd wanted to cut it, but the (reasonable) fear was that that would only bring more attention to his glasses and teeth, he didn't know which was worse but he didn't really want to find out. 

That is until he found some of his dad's styling gel and decided to have a little experiment. He'd been looking for glasses cleaning wipes in his dad's bathroom cabinet, (he didn't do this unless he literally could not see out of them and it had gotten to that point) and had found something better. 

It wasn't as if he hadn't considered it before, but now it was here for him to try. He quickly stashed it under his his shirt and ran into his own bathroom. He closed and locked the door and slowly opened the tub of gel, just sort of staring at it for a minute, taking in its possibilities. 

Of course, the expectation will always pale in comparison to the reality. A product intended to solve a problem is interpreted subconsciously as a cure all; improve one aspect of your life and suddenly all is as you want it to be. Richie Tozier was not immune to this way of thinking by any means. 

However, in his case, maybe it was a little bit true, more conventional hair meant less jabs about it from his bullies. In practice, It would probably just shift their attention to other aspects of his apparently unbearable existence, but it was nice to indulge a happy thought. 

He looked in the mirror as if it was the final push in saying, "enough", and began warming up the gel in his hands. 

It took several layers of the stuff and a considerable amount of time to get it looking reasonably slicked back. Looking in the mirror at himself, Richie had mixed feelings. On one hand, his hair was a lot more tame and that was something... new. On the other, his glasses seemed bigger and he had a feeling in his stomach that mirrored anxiety, he couldn't place it. He would later learn it was the feeling of being just a little bit more vulnerable, more open.

 Richie decided he would try the new look out on the losers at the movie night later that day. Richie hadn't thought much about what he was wearing, he couldn't really be bothered with all the anticipation of the losers' reactions; he wore some standard black jeans, a t shirt, and his dad's old brown leather jacket. 

The sight of this evening's festivities would be at Ben's house. Richie walked the few blocks it took to get there with an anxious spring in his step. He took one last deep breath and approached Ben's door, knocking more gently than he ever had.   
His favorite redhead answered the door, to no surprise, she had been here early to hang out with Ben.   
She took in his appearance for what to Richie seemed like hours before deciding on a response, "Zuko! You're here early! You must've taken that greased lightin'!" She exclaimed and began swinging her hips. Anyone else and Richie would've been insulted, but he knew this meant Bev liked it and the humor had made him loosen up a bit.    
 He chuckled and walked into the house, using his best greaser voice, "Yeah? Does that make you my Sandy?" he teased. 

She giggled, "Fat chance, stud. I'm Rizzo if anything." 

"Yeah? Does that make Ben... uh the guy that's with Rizzo?"   
   
"Alright, now you're just cruisin' for a brusin' buddy" she quipped. They joked and went to find Ben in the living room with movies sprawled out on the floor. Ben looked up from the ground and smiled, "Hey Richie, nice hair, man."  

Bill, Stan, and Mike had all given similar compliments when Richie had answered the door. Richie was especially happy about Stan's approval, compliments from that kid were few and far between, they meant something. Sure, it had only been Richie asking how it looked and Stan grunting a "nice," after Mike had gushed about it. Mike always had the nicest things to say to everyone, especially Stan. 

All of this was nice, but Richie would be lying if he said he wasn't worried the most about one person in particular's reaction. After everyone (minus one) was situated in the living room, Richie looked at the Hanscom's clock- 7:40- he was 10 minutes late. The movie would be decided soon, Richie (told himself he) didn't want him to miss it, he cleared his throat, 

"Hey has anybody talked to Eddie today?" He asked, trying to sound neutral.  

"H-he's p-probably just c-caught up with his m-mom, R-Richie," Bill answered, seeming as if he was trying to calm Richie down.   
   
"Yeah, prob-" 

The doorbell rang, 

"I got it!" Richie sprung up instantly, 

"No one was going to try to challenge you on that," Stan remarked, but Richie was already at the door.   
    
He tried to settle his panic and draw upon his friends' compliments and opened the door. 

"Ah! There's my Eds!" 

Eddie was ripped out of his thoughts and turned his head towards Richie, he started, "Don't call me-" he stopped and looked up at Richie. 

Richie laughed nervously, "Cat got your tongue, spaghetti man?" 

Eddie looked... surprised but then maybe a little mad? 

"Your hair," he said, his voice void of any readable emotion. 

Richie reached up and smoothed it over once more, trying not to sound panicked, 

"You like it?" 

Eddie looked like he was trying to muster a smile, that was some how worse then his initial reaction, 

"It's... it's different," he said. 

Default, defensive Tozier mode set in during this panic, "yeah, well, your mom seems to like it a whole lot," he quipped, a little more bitterly than he intend. 

Eddie looked more mad than he usually did, less playful and more genuine, "Beep, Beep, asshole."   
   
They both looked, at the ground, feeling embarrassed. 

"Guys! We're about to pick the movie! Come on!" Mike shouted, Richie led him into the house without another word.  

Richie tried to brush off Eddie's unusual coldness with his usual jokes. Eddie would respond like he always did, but he didn't seem to be all in it. Every once in while, Richie would catch him glaring from his side but Eddie would turn away before he could meet his eye. The night carried on like this. 

All this tension came to a head when it was time for the losers to head home. Ben's mom had work early the next morning, (Sunday, she always took extra shifts to make sure Ben had everything he needed) and no one wanted to keep her up. 

Richie took this as a mere opportunity for party relocation, rather than an end to the night.   
"Alright losers, sleep over at my place?" 

"I c-can't," Bill responded first, "work tomorrow," he cited simply. Bill had started work at what he deemed, "Derry's only authentic coffee shop." He took as many shifts as they would allow him to on minimum wage, claiming he wanted to save up for a car. Richie, as well as the other losers, more accurately believed that it was another reason to get out of his house, things still weren't the same at the Denbrough's. Richie doubted it ever would be. No one mentioned it. 

"Stan the man?" Richie asked hopefully, but he already knew the response, 

"Sorry, Richie Tomorrow's study day and I'd have a headache from hanging out with you. I can't work under those conditions," That earned a laugh from everybody. It was true though, Stan would always wake up early on Sundays to get ahead on school work, he wanted to get into Yale. Richie knew he would. 

"Got it, don't want me keeping you up from banging your mom, it's cool," that earned a laugh followed by several beep-beeps. 

Bev had a curfew that she'd already broken four times this week (usually the limit for her aunt), so he didn't bother there. Ben was already asleep on her shoulder, a peacefulness Richie didn't want to disturb. 

"Mikey?"  Richie asked, again already knowing the response, 

"Sorry buddy, chores tomorrow," Mike said, already sounding exhausted. 

Richie looked to Eddie last and everyone in the room, (save for a sleeping Ben) was weirded out by that. That's not to say that they felt any less loved when Eddie and Richie were automatically at each other's sides. They all sensed, however subconsciously, it was not more love that Richie and Eddie had for each other, but that of a different breed. No one really had to think about it, acknowledging Eddie and Richie's pull to each other was like acknowledging your own breathing.   
They were all a little thrown off when Richie asked, 

"Eds?" 

In a sheepish voice, instead of slinging an arm around him and walking off without thinking about it. 

Eddie was hard pressed for an excuse, his mom was always more pissed when he came back late at night. Walking at night meant murder, violence, abduction (Eddie found his mother's concern very ironic, considering what he'd been through). He also didn't want to solidify the weird tension between them by declining, 

"Yeah, okay, let's start walking." The words come out of his mouth in a way that felt foreign leaving his lips, he'd never had to talk these actions out before. 

Richie coughed, "Alright, goodnight losers, have fun with your responsible bullshit tomorrow, me and Eddie are gonna have some fun," he said, trying to call upon his normal voice. (What did it sound like? Not this.)  

No one took the bait with that one, things were weird enough.  Everyone said their goodbyes and began to head home (safely, in pairs). 

Eddie and Richie began their walk to the Tozier house. 


	2. Eddie

There were a lot of things people would find strange about Richie Tozier: his sense of humor, his buck teeth, his bean pole body, his hair, his glasses, etc, etc. On anyone else, Eddie might've found theses qualities strange, but the sum of these parts, combined with something Eddie didn't think he'd ever know, made up Richie Tozier. 

Eddie didn't believe Richie (or anyone else) was perfect, but he did believe that every piece of seemingly weird piece of Richie was what he'd come to (love) know as his friend. 

He wasn't opposed to Richie changing and growing as a person, he of course wanted the best for all his friends, but there were somethings that you just didn't mess with.   
He didn't know why Richie's hair seems to be one of those things. 

When Richie answered the door, Eddie felt his stomach drop. 

He looked good, but he didn't look like Richie. 

Eddie knew it sounded dramatic, maybe it was. He remembered when Richie's hair started to change with the hot, still Derry climate. Thick strands of dark hair formed into little ringlets framing his face, it was so soft. It was around the time Eddie started noticing things about Richie that were more things about himself. His silly smile, the way his eyes squinted when he was working something out in his head, his long legs, his eyes, magnified through giant glasses, his hands, Eddie felt himself thinking about Richie more and more, it sent him into a panic. Richie had always been Richie, why was it different now? He found the feeling was like a dormant volcano that had always been sitting in his chest, and it was beginning to erupt.

Eddie would always run through Richie's hair with his fingers when he was too tired to be self conscious and keep a physical distance. Eddie tried not to think too hard about the way Richie made him feel in those vulnerable moments. Or in general. He hadn't made peace with his feelings quite yet and he wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon. 

But here it was, standing in the Hanscom's doorway, looking him right in the eye. Richie's hair was slicked back and it looked stiff, unnatural. Un-Richie-like. Eddie felt his heart drop, the implication that Richie would want to change any aspect of himself, the self that sent Eddie spiraling, was too much. 

He tried to push it down, really he did, like everything else. However, he couldn't help but feel hurt. 

He knew Richie didn't like a lot of things about himself, no matter how much he tried to hide it under jokes. The more uncomfortable Richie got in his skin, the more Eddie wanted to tell him all of this, to tell him how beautiful he was.

The urge tonight was more strong than ever. Every few moments Eddie would feel his eyes wander to Richie and he could feel his mind begin to form the words. No, Eddie told himself, No. He knew he was coming off cold but he was afraid if he indulged himself too much, he'd give himself away. He just wanted to go home, sleep it off, and have things go back to what he settled for as normal. 

And that's what should've happened. Only it didn't. 

The thought of the wrath of Sonia Kaspbrak after finding out that Eddie had walked home late at night pushed the current crises aside. Eddie found himself agreeing to the sleepover before he had the chance to really think about it. 

Close proximity to Richie wasn't new but something like bravery brewed in Eddie's heart now, without his knowledge. The universe had decided without him that for whatever reason it was different now. Something was going to happen, no matter what he did to avoid it. 

Eddie breathed in the changing Derry night air as he stepped out of the Hanscom house, the seasons were shifting. 

Richie was by his side, babbling on about the movies they'd watched to fill the dead air. Eddie scuffed his shoes on the ground and would nod every couple of words in place of the usual banter. It only took them a few minutes to get to the Tozier house and in that time the mood had shifted from uncomfortable to just straight up weird. Richie was always talking sure, but always with Eddie's remarks as a chaser where there was now relative silence. Eddie knew he was being weird but he didn't know what to do about it. Finally, they reached Richie's house. 

Inside, Eddie slips his shoes off and they head to the kitchen. Late night snacks were a tradition, even when they didn't have any snack foods, they'd make strange creations from what they did have (Richie had once made a marshmallow and peanut butter quesadilla that became a favorite). 

Tonight wasn't one of those nights, Richie's house was fully stocked. Richie pulled out a packet of  popcorn and started making it in the microwave. Eddie pulled out two glass coke bottles from the fridge out of habit (Richie's mom would always buy the glass ones in lieu of cans, they reminded her of when she was a kid.) He unscrewed them both open and handed one to Richie, who was still going on about honestly, god knows what. 

Richie leaned back on the counter with his elbow and took a sip; the combination of his slicked back hair and his relaxed posture made him look like some stereotypical cool guy out of some dumb, unrealistic high school movie. Eddie's rational thought process was fading out along with the background hum of the microwave. His eyes took in the image of some weird, alternate universe version of this best friend. Maybe if Richie was quiet, or mysterious, or less funny, maybe he'd look like that. It wasn't as if he didn't like the new look, in fact, he liked a little too much to feel comfortable. So why did he want the old Richie look back? Why was he so upset? He tired to break up the silence on his end with anything he could think of,

"Oh my god, I haven't had coke in forever," it was true, Sonia's latest crusade was convincing everyone that soda (of any kind) gave you cancer. 

Richie raised an eyebrow, "Dude, didn't you come over on Wednesday?" 

"Well, yeah, but that was like forever ago," he stated, as if this was an objective fact. 

Richie chuckled, "I guess 3 days with Mrs.K is an eternity, huh Eds?" 

"You're not kidding, and don't call me Eds."  

The usual banter. This bit of conversation carried on between the two of them until they got to Richie's room. 

He had a small TV that faced the bed, it was older but it still worked. They sat down on the floor,  as Richie flipped through the multiple channels of late night talk shows, black and white movies, and reruns of shows like The Brady bunch and M*A*S*H. Eddie reviled for a second in what a weird, miscellaneous universe late night television operated in, until they eventually found the original Ghostbusters on a movie channel. Of course, they'd seen Ghostbusters a million and one times, but it was a favorite (they both knew a lot of the lines and would sometimes act it out though they'd never admit it to anyone else). Eddie was still falling victim to what had happened earlier, he kept staring at Richie's hair with a mix of sadness and adoration. 

He didn't know how to feel and it was getting late, exhaustion and sensitivity weren't a good mix. He decided to hold back on talking all together again, in the fear he'd say something he would regret. This course of action didn't go unnoticed by Richie.

Ghostbusters eventually faded into another movie Eddie couldn't bother to remember the name of, struggling to even keep his eyes open. Everything around him was becoming blurred in the corner of his eyes and the voices of actors he had no interest in on TV became softer, more and more faint. His sleepy daze was accompanied by the smell of melted butter on popcorn mixed in with the natural scent of Richie's room. That made it sound like it smelled bad, Eddie didn't know if he liked the way it smelled simply because it wasn't something he'd really thought about, it had always just been there. People will talk about the times where they caught a whiff of something that took them back to a vivid memory, that's what Richie's room smelled like:

Like hot summer days, companioned  by only a soft wind. Like hours spent on the floor talking about nothing, Like new comic book you'd been waiting forever to get, but had no problem sharing, like a shoulder to cry and laugh on. A little bit like cheap cigarettes and minty soap. 

He felt himself beginning to melt into the air around him, surroundings becoming softer and less discernible. Until, he his head hit something solid and he jolted up in surprise, Richie's shoulder. He chuckled, "falling asleep so soon, huh grandpa?" 

Eddie felt his cheeks burn and mumbled, "shut up." 

"Alight, let's pack it in, it's bed time for the baby," he said in some sort of accent Eddie really couldn't be bothered to discern. 

"I'm not a baby dumbass," he mumbled. 

"Are you sure? Because I can pick you up like one," Richie said, grabbing the shorter boy and swinging him over his shoulder. His hands resting on Eddie's back as he kicked at his sides. 

"Put me down Richie!" 

In a British accent, "sorry love, gotta 'ave ya hauled off to the queen, a bloke is just following orders," said Richie.   
    
Normally, this situation would be followed by more of Eddie's yells mixed with some uncontainable laughter. But Eddie wasn't laughing, he felt his skin tingle and heart begin to pound, Richie couldn't know. He put on his best poker face and inflected his most stern voice, "I'm serious!" 

Richie dropped him like he'd been burned, Eddie caught his face in the light of the moon mixed with the low light of the TV, he looked hurt, almost offended. His voice sounded that way too,   
"Jesus, okay, Eddie." 

This was uncharted territory, Eddie audibility inhaled, "okay, I'm sorry, I just... I'm tired okay? Let's just go to bed," he suggested, trying to sound neutral. 

After a brief moment of silence,   
"Alright, fine, let's go to bed," the taller boy said, pulling off the comforter. 

"Actually," he stared, "can you just toss me a pillow? I think I'm going to sleep on the floor." 

That seemed to strike a cord, Richie threw the comforter back down,   
"Alright Eddie, what the hell?" 

"What do you mean what the hell?" 

Richie breathed in, "I mean, we've been sleeping in the same bed since we were yay high, what's the problem?"'

He tried to sound convincing, "There isn't a problem! I just thought it might be a little tight, you're a damn giant at this point," damn, too mean, he knew Richie was self conscious about his height. 

"Fuck you, man, you've been acting weird all night, what did I do to you?" 

Eddie looked at the floor, willing this conversation to be over, they never fought for real, bickering a lot yeah, but never like this. 

"Whatever," he said, he was trying to sound nonchalant, but ended up sounding more hurt, "goodnight." He tossed Eddie a pillow and a stray blanket with no regard for where they landed. Eddie sighed and set himself up on the the cold hard wood floor.  

His mind wouldn't let him forget the warm bed above him. He couldn't sleep and after awhile, he didn't think he would ever be able to unless he said something, anything, any layer of truth. All day, as long as he could remember more accurately, he'd been trying to avoid this conversation, but he couldn't hang on any longer, he was lashing out. Eddie could maybe, a least a tiny bit,  
think that Richie could look past his secret, but if he kept holding it in and exploding like this, there wouldn't be a friendship to salvage. Call it bravery, call it sleep deprivation, but whatever it was, Eddie was under it's spell,

"Richie?" 

"Hm?" 

"Are you awake?"

"No," Richie said, his voice wasn't even a little bit sleepy, he'd been staring at the celling this whole time just like Eddie.  

"Okay, well, if you were, I'd want to tell you I'm sorry I acted weird today," his hands were shaking, but his voice was steady and solid. 

"S'okay," Richie responded, but he knew that wasn't the end of it, "Are.. are you mad at me or something?" He sounded hesitant, unsure of himself, insecure. Eddie hated that he made him feel that way, "No, no I'm sorry, it's my own bullshit, I shouldn't have taken it out on you." 

"Oh, did you want to talk about it?" 

Silence fell and Eddie kept looking at the celling. He didn't know what would happen next, but something would, there would ultimately be an outcome to this and he wanted to stay within a universe where none of this lead to anything as long as he could. He listened to his own heartbeat as if it was the last time he would hear it. He couldn't hold on forever, this moment, as all other things, would pass. He broke the quietness, "I'm sorry I called you a giant, I didn't mean it." 

A beat, 

"I know," Richie said simply. 

Another beat, 

"Do you think I'm gross or something? It's okay if yo-" 

He was cut off, by Eddie who sounded offended at this question, "of course not," 

A moment passed. 

"Never, never ever," there wasn't really any holding back now, he inhaled,   
"Richie, I don't think you're gross," 

"You looked grossed out by my hair today," 

"That's because.. well it's.." he couldn't find the words, but he knew what he was feeling, he tried to channel that, "I wasn't grossed out, you just didn't look like yourself."

"Well, everyone else liked it, are you afraid I'll get all the girls or some shit?" 

Oh, if only that was the problem. 

"No," 

"Then what is it?" He sounded a little angry now. 

"I just.. I just like your normal hair okay?" Eddie knew this about himself, once you got him going, he couldn't really stop, he felt his cheeks get hit and his tongue swell up but this wouldn't be enough to halt his words.  He sighed, "I like your normal hair, I like the way it sits on your shoulders when it gets long, I like the way it falls just above your eyes and how soft it is when I run my fingers through it. I like how messy it is, how it's frizzy and all over the place sometimes and I like the way it smells when you stand next to me. I like that it can't be controlled or tamed, I like how your hair is just one thing I like about you but also everything I like about you in one piece of you. I don't want you to change, or think that you need to. I like the way you are, I like it a lot." 

He hadn't meant to say that much, but he felt more free than he had in a long time (maybe his whole life). He still couldn't let the silence stand though, that was too much,   
"Is that... is that weird?" He knew it was, but he needed to hear something, even a conformation of rejection. 

Richie appeared to be mulling it over, until, finally, "Yeah, that's weird," he said, casually. He'd expected this, but it was still hard to hear. 

A beat, 

"But, I think I.. um.. I think I'm a little weird too," he said, sounding more sure of himself then he had all night. 

You could tell Eddie that this would happen a thousand times and his response would still be,

 "what?" 

"I'm weird too," he stumbled to find his words, "for you I mean." He regained his assurance in himself, "I mean, I wouldn't want you to change either, not for the world, Eds. I like everything about you." 

His voice was steady, even calm. Eddie had pictured this happening a lot of ways, but a mutual feeling confirmed with a peaceful tone wasn't one of them. 

A silence fell again, this time more comfortable, 

"So, what now?" Richie asked after a long minute. 

 Eddie didn't think, he simply stood and walked over to his bed. He climbed in next to him, never breaking their shared gaze, face to face. He took in his pale skin, illuminated by the moon, milky and soft, dancing with tiny freckles and allowed himself to stare into his eyes without any shame or worry. They stayed like that a long while, drinking in all they loved about one another for the first time with no reservations. It was the most liberating feeling Eddie could think of. 

"Can I kiss you?" Richie asked, gently, hesitantly, Eddie simply nodded. 

Their lips connected in a moment of bliss, it wasn't too rushed, but soft and electric at the same time. Eddie moved to put his hands in Richie's hair, finding his fingers entrenched in gel. But he didn't really care, he knew there would be plenty more kisses with his hands laced in dark, endless curls.  

When they disconnected, Richie cupped the sides of Eddie's face, "you know I'm still me right? I didn't change at all," 

He nodded, "I know, I guess I was always worried that you didn't like yourself and wanted to change, when I like you so much it made me stupid." 

Richie chuckled, "I'm stupid about you too, Eds and I'm never wearing hair gel again, I hate the way it feels." Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, sweet and soft and new. 

"Hmm, but I love the way you feel,"  
Richie hummed when they separated again. 

"Ah there he is. Trashmouth strikes again," they both laughed softly and shared a few more kisses. 

Eventually, they dosed off in each other's arms, the light of the moon coming in through the window, crating a halo around them. They slept peacefully, love buzzing about the room. A lot had changed, Eddie was staring to believe that maybe that wasn't always such a bad thing after all.  
   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! Let me know your thoughts, I didn't get the chance to edit this a whole lot, whoops.


End file.
